Penumbra
by BloodColoredRose
Summary: Ciel's new demon days are not going smoothly, no thanks to his butler. He knows Sebastian hates him; he can feel it. To make matters worse, Ciel is starving. All. The. Time. Meanwhile, Sebastian has issues of his own to deal with. Such as the sudden desires Ciel sparks in him, and the fact that Ciel is getting much unwanted attention from other demons. Seb x Ciel. M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! I'm planning for this to be a multiple chapter fiction. This chapter is in Ciel's point of view, just so you know. I hope you like it! Please review! I need to know how I'm doing! Thanks a bunch for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, nor any characters. Though I wish I did. So sad.**

**Warnings: M, to be safe, for later chapters (maybe?). Contains spoilers for Season 2. Boy x boy love, so if you don't like, I would kindly suggest you do not read. If you do like it, there's nothing stopping you.**

**Anyways, enjoy! THAT is an order XD**

* * *

**Penumbra**

**~CIEL~**

Chapter 1:

"Do you hate me?"

I struggle to keep my voice cold, mocking, nonchalant. My attempts are almost successful, even though I can feel my eyes sting and my demon-tainted soul writhe within this shell of a body, but there is that one broken _note_.

Damn.

My butler says nothing. The words twist and churn in the silence-fogged air of my bedroom, and I frown. Why do I care what Sebastian thinks now, anyways? I'm alive, after all. And I will have him by my side forever.

But maybe that's the reason why he's acting so cold to me? Even without asking, I can tell he hates me: his garnet eyes on my skin feels like he's pouring a bucket of ice over my head. He despises me. Loathes me. And the fact that his animosity bothers me just _irks_ me to no end.

I am an earl, after all. I shouldn't care what a mere servant thinks of me. But I do, for some unfathomable reason.

I'm irritated. I have been ever since I was turned, ever since the fateful day that damn Alois Trancy created a contract with that she-devil, Hannah. While in _my_ body, no less! Even though gluttony hasn't been, nor will ever be, one of favorite Seven, I find myself now so famished, I can't stand it. Human food no longer appeals to me in the slightest. But what disturbs me the most is the fact that my own butler tried to kill me, and failed. _Failed_. He bloody shoved his fist through my chest! Does he know how much that _hurt_?! Yet, here I am, still alive. And he has used the excuse that he was merely 'testing whether I have become a demon or not'. I don't buy it. He _hates_ me, after all.

My eyes narrow at Sebastian, watching the black strands of his hair slither down like dark snakes over a beautiful, pale face and cast shadows over blood-jeweled eyes. I suddenly stiffen. Jeweled? _Beautiful?_

Have I just thought his face beautiful? My almost-_executioner_? I clench my eyes shut, stopping my train of thought, and touch my forehead. I must be falling ill. There is no way in Hell that I would think such things of my servant. Either that, or I have gone mad.

Or maybe it's puberty catching up with me? Damn Alois and his cruelly perfect timing. Or maybe I'm just hungry. Yes, maybe….

"My lord, is there something troubling you? Your inquiry is quite unbecoming of someone with your status."

Unbecoming, indeed. I feel quite unbecoming, with my soul stained with the seal of immortality, with the sin of being unable to accomplish my end of the deal. I feel unbecoming with my black-hole of a stomach and the ache in my heart that very well shouldn't be there. I feel unbecoming with my hormones raging out of control and forcing my emotions to do the same. Yes, besides Alois, this predicament (my influx of emotions and insatiable appetite) is because of my hormones, _not_ because I'm a demon; I'm certain of it.

Becoming a demon can't change one too much…can it?

My eyes flutter open, and I glare half-heartedly at Sebastian as he shuffles through his daily routine: open the curtains, dress me, give me the imaginary breakfast on delicate, empty china. How infuriating. I'm no longer a child. I don't wish to play 'House'. Pretending has lost its appeal so very long ago….

Sebastian's face is impassive now, his tone always cold. I can't bear it. It's so ridiculous that my heart seems to bloody _squeeze_ the life out of me every time I look at him. I'm tired of silly games. I'm tired of not being able to see that disgustingly (lovely) saccharine, unauthentic smile of his. I'm tired of hearing monotonous drabble. I'm just…so…_tired_.

"No. It's nothing."

**_~x~ _**

It has only been a few days since being cursed, even less than returning to the human-populated world from Hell. Yet, it seems as if I'd gone through forever and back again, no thanks to my butler. One can't imagine how slowly time passes when one can live forever hated. And _starving_. It's quite awful, really.

Sebastian has told me once that the time I've lived has been nothing short of a blink of an eye to him. I almost feel sorry for him, now. It requires much more than a blink of an eye to be done with me in my current condition.

Presently, I find myself on the outskirts of a city, the sun setting behind the buildings and painting the sky with fire. Fire, burning flesh, rattling shackles, children broken with despair, stone tables, laughing masks, so much _blood_…. I shake away the images that begin to surface from the depths of my mind, and I subconsciously lean a little closer to my butler. It's preposterous how the only person -or demon, in this case- I feel safe with is the one who wishes me dead. Hilarious, even.

I wonder if he'll ever end up killing me?

"Sebastian, where are we going?" I demand.

"It's time for your first meal," is his monotonous reply. He glances down at me, cold garnet eyes boring into my cobalt blue orbs. "As you know, there are no souls in Hell that we can consume, my lord."

Of course. That's why we have returned to Earth to begin with. However, instead of returning to London -or England, for that matter, we have come to France. Dirty France, with its irritatingly large population, shops, and dirty streets. The Eiffel Tower attracts so many people, so many _souls_. They're unsuspecting idiots, the whole lot of them.

"I remember you telling me that demons don't need sleep. What are we to do later, after all…this…is through?" I ask, changing the subject quickly. I don't know how Sebastian devours souls, nor do I ever wish to. But the growl in my stomach tells me that I have no choice in the matter, and I find my mouth watering at the prospect of a meal. How un-lordly.

"You are to partake in lessons, taught by yours truly."

He leaves it at that. He doesn't mention that he stated this fact this morning; he doesn't tease me, doesn't taunt me. I glance up at him, then back to the hellfire sky, not liking the empty look in his eyes one bit. Bastard. How cold can he be?

"What sort of lessons? Don't tell me it's that blasted Latin."

He doesn't smirk like he would have if I was still human. This irritates me further. I have the sudden urge to slap some emotion onto that stupid face of his! But of course, that isn't very noble of me. And, demon or not, I am still the head of the Phantomhive family. I have some standards.

"I will teach you how to be a demon," he answers, ignoring the flashes of anger that surely show in my exposed eye.

I humph. "There's no need." Why do I want to argue with him so badly? Is it to make him feel something, damn it? I am taking this much too far! Yet I can't stop myself. "You're here to protect me, after all."

Sebastian suddenly kneels in front of me, but not in his usual subservient way. His white-gloved hands clamp onto my shoulders, making me squirm instinctively beneath them. His garnet orbs suddenly flare Hellfire, finally flickering to life. The life that I have wanted from him before, but now it makes me feel afraid….

That boor! What the hell does he think he's doing?!

"One wouldn't know what sort of things demons are capable of, my lord," my demon butler whispers as he leans closer, closer, _closer_. My lungs constrict, making it fairly difficult to inhale properly. His breath, sweet and spicy with the fragrance of cinnamon, caresses my face and fair nearly makes my heart burst with the speed it's beating at. His eyes ooze into demonic vermillion. Fear flickers through my stomach with butterflies as a sickle-slick smile finally appears on smooth, pale flesh, taunting with the promise to reveal things that should only be left in the dark. Goosebumps race down my arms, heat rushing to my face, and-

His smile leaves. His eyes return to dead, cold, garnet jewels, and he is standing by my side as if nothing had happened. A dutiful butler once again.

And I can't stand it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! Sorry it took so long to update! I'll try to get a chapter up every 2 weeks, since school started and I don't have as much free time as I would like... Anyways, this chapter is in Sebastian's POV! And don't forget to review! Sebastian wouldn't be too happy if he finds out you're not reviewing, ya know. Eh heh heh... Plus, lots of free cyber-cookies!**

**Don't forget that I don't own Kuroshitsuji or the characters in it. Oh darn... Anyways...**

**Happy Labor Day! Enjoy!**

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**Penumbra**

**~SEBASTIAN~**

Chapter 2:

I've been cruel to my master; I will admit that much. However, one can suspect nothing more from a demon who forever has to serve under another fiend from Hell. But none is the wiser for the _real_ reason why I'm so cold to the young earl I serve.

Ever since the boy was reborn as a demon, I tell myself the same thing over and over again, much like a mantra: "he's not the same as he was; he's not the same." And it's true; he isn't the same. He's much _worse_.

He is completely ignorant of what he can do to me, or any demon for that matter (I'm fairly certain I'm not alone in this issue). The boy is completely -dangerously- unaware of his own intoxicating scent; if he knew, he would have run as far as those delicate legs of his could take him. Run as far and fast as he can from _me_.

Ah, his scent….

The boy is like a beacon of light: his soul shines through so pure and bright, the sweet, unobtainable scent of Heaven drifting off of his beautiful ethereal skin and delicate limbs, beckoning me (taunting me, even) behind the iron bars of immortality. Hell's sultry, palpable scent almost disguises the fact that I cannot reach his soul (Heaven; pure, unadulterated fulfillment), making it seem so close and real that it drives me mad with the urge to grab it. His scent…as enticing as the snake who tempted Eve herself: curling with misspoken promises of what could, would, may be. Slithering into the depths of my mind, heart, and even my misshapen soul, and making my taste buds tingle and my stomach churn with desire and excitement and _oh!_

How awful of my young master to do this to me. After all, even he should know that demons cannot touch Heaven; but even more so, he should be aware that they have never even stopped _trying_. Even I, without realizing until now. Now, I find myself itching to tear the boy in two from the inside out. The burning desire to rip out his heart and call it my own consumes me like the pits of Hell I have been raised in every time I look at my master. Yes, _my_ master. He belongs to me and me alone; he is mine to ravish, break, hold, love-

The thought is driven from my mind as soon as it has come. After all, demons cannot feel an emotion so akin to Heaven. They feel lust, yes. They feel envy. They can even feel possessive. They cannot, however, feel love.

"Sebastian, what the bloody hell are you dallying around for? I'm _starving_!" my young master suddenly shrieks, stamping a boot onto the streets of Paris. His face is scrunched up so endearingly in anger.

I smother the snicker that threatens to come. It's adorable, really, how the boy thinks that I belong to him, while _he_ is the one who belongs to _me_: every morsel of his delectable, untouchable soul, and every pore on his body, from every tip of his toenails to the very last strand of hair on his head. If only my master knew what he does to me, what emotions that he ushers from behind my ice-cold exterior. But I won't allow it. After all, if I break my master, what kind of butler would I be?

I keep my gaze cold and my features emotionless as I face him, ignoring the surge of yearning that floods to my nether regions as the sight of him fills my eyes. More than anything, I want to defile his innocence and make him _scream_….but no. I cannot do that to him. I won't. Ah, but I _want_….

"Patience is a virtue, my lord," I murmur coldly. "You will get your meal. I would advise against acting like a child in the midst of the city. It's quite un-lordly."

I almost feel as if I'm talking to myself; the words fit so perfectly with my inner, conflicting state and my childish mini-tantrums inside of my head. It fits so perfectly that I want to laugh.

His mouth turns down in a frown, and his revealed blue eye flashes red in an emotion I can't quite decipher. Is it anger? Pain? A combination of the two? The thought nearly makes the grin I've been holding back appear on my features, but I keep my face stoic.

We continue to walk, the moon rising against the dark of night. Building after building rises up from the ground like a horde of angry ghosts, candelabrums flickering fire-light through windows as some homeowners get ready for bed. There are still people out on the streets, the lot of them making sure to avoid the shadows that litter the area, some children skittering like mice to and fro in the light of the lampposts and always in the sight of their parents. It seems that at least _some_ humans have grown some brains.

The sound of hurrying footsteps -a woman's footsteps, from the delicate clacks of heels- draws my attention. My eyes land on a young woman with dark brown hair hurrying through the shadows, her mouth drawn into a tight line and her eyes frantic as she hurries to some unknown destination. It appears as if she's fleeing.

"Alaina! Wait up, ya bitch!" the drunken voice of a man roars, forcing my attention off of her and onto the man stumbling after her from a brothel. "How dare ya turn yer back'n me! 'T least lets me explain!"

"There's nothing left to say!" the woman yells. Silver droplets of tears cascade down her cheeks as she stops and whirls towards him, her skirts rustling with the sudden movement. "you…you _slept_ with her! Drunk or not, you're supposed to be _married_ to me, Anthony! Not to some whore!"

The drunkard's face twists in anger and he rushes towards her. The woman doesn't move, holding her chin up high and her eyes glittering with her utterly stupid knowledge of being _right_. I look down at my young master, who, in turn, looks up at me.

"Master, if I may, can I request that you remain here for the moment?"

He merely nods, and I'm behind the drunken man in a matter of seconds, grabbing his fist just before he punches the woman in his stupidity. He squirms in my grip, glaring over his shoulder back at me, and my lips twitch upwards into a smile. His glare is nothing in comparison to my master's.

"Good sir, it's horribly impolite to strike a lady."

"Shadup. Who t'hell are _you_?! Let go a me, ya bastard!"

"Me? Oh, I'm merely a passerby," I murmur casting a quick glance at the lady, who was trembling with fear. I offer her a smile -warm and comforting, a human might describe it. I turn back to the man. "I fear an apology is in order, and afterwards, I ask that you leave."

"How da hell d'ya think I'll take orders from a-"

He doesn't finish his sentence. His face is already on the ground, my foot on top of it. I release a bored sigh as he squirms beneath my boot, shrieking in pain as blood puddles beneath his face from his nose, until I hear an "I'm sorry!" muffled through the bricks. I let him stand, and soon afterwards, I'm alone with the woman. Tears are still pouring out of her eyes, her lithe body still trembling, and I take a step closer.

"Th-thank you," she whispers.

"No need to thank me. A lady shouldn't wander by herself at night," I tell her quietly. "Why don't I take you home? You do have a place you can stay, don't you?"

She nods. "I have a place only a few blocks away. You don't really have to-"

I shake my head, a polite smile forming onto my face. "No. I insist. As I've said, a lady shouldn't wander by herself at night. Who knows what sorts of monsters lurk in the shadows?"

**~x~**

What a stupid woman. Shouldn't one be wary of strangers? Especially humans, so weak and fragile and so prone to shattering at the slightest touch….

My devil-slitted eyes wander over my handiwork: blood is splattered like petals from roses, fragrant and beautiful as it forms puddles of all shapes and sizes across delicate skin and cold, hard ground. Fear twists and contorts her heart-shaped face, and betrayed trust is settled deep in russet brown eyes as distant, dead eyes stare at me. I allow my eyes to soften in pity as I lick a trace of blood from my fingers.

"Why do you look at me like that? I've warned you, haven't I?"

As expected, she doesn't answer, and I make no more conversation with the corpse. Instead, I pick up the body and begin to make haste towards my young master. After all, if I can't give my lord a meal in a timely manner, what sort of butler would I be?

**~x~**

"I'm supposed to _eat_ this?!" my master shrieks, taking a step back as he turns to glare balefully at me. "Do you think me a fool, Sebastian? I refuse to eat this thing. It's _revolting!_"

How amusing. My young lord has just been turned into a devil, yet he can resist temptation to this extent? Devils haven't been created to _resist_ temptation, to begin with. I must admit, I half-expected him to pounce on the corpse the second her body was laid out in front of him, in this secluded alleyway away from the light of the main streets.

The blood of the woman still trickles from the deep gash on her neck, staining her white dress and long, matted dark hair, and seeps into the ground, inching forwards towards my master's heeled boots. Her russet-brown eyes are open and glassy, forever staring into the face of the Devil. The scent of death cloaks her like the sweetest perfume. Such an _intoxicating_ scent, it must be to my young lord.

Despite his efforts, I can tell he is affected by the smell. My master takes a deep breath, his cobalt blue eye half-lidded with desire. He takes a single step forward, then stops, his eye widening comically slowly as his mind seemingly catches up with him. The orb settles on the corpse, and I can see the fascinated repugnance deep in its watery depths. My young lord takes a few hurried steps back, bringing his black-gloved hand to his nose and mouth to prevent the mouth-watering scent to reach his lungs and to feign the need to vomit.

"Remove this vile thing from me _at once_, Sebastian!"

"But my lord," I answer smoothly, monotonously, with a hint of disdain, "you know very well that demons devour human souls. Think of this body as…the wrapper to a candy. All you have to do is open it up."

"This is a _human body!_ Not a _bloody candy!_ Your metaphors make me wretch."

"Thank you, my lord. Now, you must hurry before the soul escapes."

He merely stands there, feet apart and feigning immovability almost as if he's waging war with himself: his humanity clashing against his new demonic nature. I know his demonic hunger is winning, though, simply by the way his exposed eye bleeds to red, the way his thin arms cross over his chest in an attempt to hold himself back, the way he tears his gaze from his meal only to revert back to glowering at the bloody corpse moments later. His little feet shift side to side uncomfortably as repulsion and enchantment so endearingly etch themselves onto his china-doll face: pouting lips; narrow, fixated, _curious _eyes; nose scrunching up so childishly; small body leaning ever-so-slightly closer. My garnet eyes widen a fraction as I gaze at the young one. Such innocence….

I watch as my lord hesitantly -cautiously, to my uttermost delight- makes his way towards the woman, his demonic hunger inevitably driving him forward. He pulls off his black gloves, dropping them carelessly to the ground, and reaches out. His fingers brush against her bloody skin, and I can tell he relishes the feel of her blood on his black-nailed fingertips. I can see it in his half-lidded gaze.

He tentatively raises the bloodied hand to his nose and inhales. Then, he licks a droplet of the crimson liquid. His tongue draws my eyes, my blood beginning to boil over. I force away the unnecessary, unwanted thoughts that begin to bubble up behind my eyelids and shove myself back to reality.

My master's body stiffens as the taste of the woman's blood teases his taste buds; then, in the blink of an eye, he is upon the corpse, slicing open the woman's chest with his claws and tearing out her heart. All the while, I want to force the excitement in the pits of my stomach to dwindle and die; I want to tear my eyes off of him and occupy my mind with something other than the lusciously sinful thoughts that begin to plague me. But I can't….I can't take my eyes off of the boy. I watch as his fangs elongate, and he leans in to the flesh of the organ and bites into it. I can hear the soft **squelch**, like he just bit into a ripe peach. Blood drips down his chin like ruby jewels. A small frown forms on his lips, and he tosses the organ aside.

His claws dig through the cavern of her torso, searching for the soul as body fluids spray up and onto his skin. Delicate features twist into half-annoyance, half-yearning, creating the most succulent of expressions. My breathing becomes slightly shaky, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

I should have known better. But I can't berate myself in time; I can't stop the scent that fills my lungs and flows through my veins like a drug. My master's white-as-sin soul fogs my mind and clouds my reason. Promises of what could, what would, what may-be jumble together with the negativities of reality and create a different world inside of my consciousness: a world of the uncertain and the definite, a world where nothing is as it should be and where everything that should be is. A world where a covenant isn't the same as a bond, where it isn't _enough_.

Before I realize what I'm doing, my master is pinned to the alley wall with his hands above his head, his body pinned by my own. My eyes bleed a devilish vermilion, my fangs elongating. His blue eye widens in surprise, his petal-pink lips parting as he inhales a sharp breath. I lean in, brushing my lips against his throat, feeling his pulse quicken automatically. His small body tenses and squirms, trying to break free of my grasp and so full of the fragrance of fear, and that excites me all the more: heat consumes my body, painfully sweet and blissfully prodding.

"Sebastian! Let go of me! That's an _order_!"

I look up into his eyes, and he glares at me defiantly -although he is most certainly so very afraid. Goosebumps race down my arms as heat conflagrates throughout my body with yearning's wings. I can't help but grin, my fangs elongating, aching, yearning to puncture the boy's silky-smooth flesh. I nip at his throat gently, teasingly, and he shudders and squirms and _fights_. I breathe in again, deeper, relishing the pleasure his scent drugs me with. My self-control is fading, fading, until there is nothing more than a sliver of thread, and then that thread _snaps_.

"Ah, Young Master. You should know not to tempt the Devil."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Please tell me what you think of the story, and if you can tell me what needs work, or if you have any ideas you might want to see, feel free to message me. I'd be happy to oblige, if I can. I do appreciate constructive criticism, too. So please, don't be shy and review! Reviews are the food that help me grow! (Plus lots of free cyber-cookies! Who wouldn't want those?!)**

**Thanks again! And remember, I don't own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters. Ah, but if I did...Sebastian would make Ciel become a regular insomniac *hint hint***

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**Penumbra**

**~CIEL~**

Chapter 3:

It's official: Sebastian has irrevocably gone mad. His "perfect butler" status is thrown out the metaphorical window and buried six feet under; my brain can just make out the fact that my butler is unraveling. And, though the thought amuses me greatly, it's unnerving. So unnerving, in fact, that it's bloody _infuriating_.

"Sebastian! What the hell? Why aren't you listening to me?!"

Of course, with me being an earl, I only raise my voice slightly. I do not yell. I do not screech. I do not scream. My voice does not become any note higher (I hope) than what it normally is. Yet, I can see the amusement behind Sebastian's vermillion eyes as he watches me struggle against his grasp, and I know for a fact that something in my voice gave my desperation away. Damn demon. I chase out the thought of me recently becoming a demon too, since the gift of strength clearly hasn't been bestowed upon me.

But to more pressing matters: I'm pinned to a bloody alleyway wall in the middle of the night like the next victim to a rape. By my butler. Who's now nipping my throat as though he has somehow morphed into a vampire.

"S-Sebastian…." I kick myself for moaning as an unexpectedly hard nip shocks my nerves. I clench my fists, trying again to break free, to no avail.

The devil looks up from his painful (sensual) nips and stares at me, which is humiliating enough, but the way he stares makes me want to gouge out his eyes. My skin crawls as if thousands of worms were writhing and wriggling beneath my flesh. Vermillion eyes glimmer with souls long since devoured, lighted with the fires of Hell from whence he surely came. I can practically hear every sadistic thought that is crossing his mind, and it all focuses on me. The blood drains from my face; goose bumps race down my arms. The night feels unnecessarily cold, like a horde of angry ghosts crowding around me. And I fear I may just become one of them, because it seems Sebastian wants to tear me apart and devour me whole. I can see it in his eyes, and I'm…I'm…

Furious (_terrified_).

"Get away from me."

My voice is cold, confident, immovable, and I meet my butler's gaze head on, challenging my unraveled butler with every fiber of my being. For if I don't challenge him, I am no longer Ciel Phantomhive. I am no longer the watchdog of the queen of England. Those who have humiliated me would have gotten away with everything they've done, if I'm not who I am. And if I am not Earl Ciel Phantomhive…who am I?

"Is Young Master not enjoying this?" he asks with that same devilish smirk of his. "I can most certainly accommodate to your preferences, my lord."

"No, you can't. You are going to obey me like the hound you are and get the bloody hell away from me."

"You seem flustered, my lord. It's quite amusing."

"And you seem like a sadistic pedophile who's had a few too many drinks."

He says nothing, but his eyes are laughing at me. Mocking me. Silently telling me that he can see deep into my core -into my soul, even, if I still have one. I have the impression that he knows just how much pain and pleasure he's giving me, and oh, how I'm certain he enjoys my suffering and conflicting state! Sadistic idiot with those horrid eyes. Those vermillion, devilish orbs glow with promises of rusted crowns, felled kingdoms, mountains of carcasses, and endless oceans of blood, so thick and sweet like the icing to a wedding cake. They glow with a ferocious humor and drunken cruelty. Yes, that's it: my butler must have been drugged with something to have the audacity to ignore my orders.

My eyes flicker to the corpse behind Sebastian, and my mouth waters involuntarily. The soul of the thing (I can no longer think of that maimed creature as a woman) is mere seconds away from escaping; I can sense it. My eyes bleed crimson as the heated rush of anger overwhelms me.

How dare Sebastian get between me and my meal?!

Somehow I manage to rip a hand free of Sebastian's grip (which, to my delight, surprises him), and give him a resounding slap to his face, digging my nails into his smooth skin until five beautiful trails of blood slither across his handso…._disgusting _features. I hope they scar. A feral noise echoes through the alleyway, alien to my ears. It almost sounds like a cat's hiss. Naturally, Sebastian seems to love the sound, if his lips quirking up into an adoring smile gives me any proof. Then it dawns on me: _I_ have created that God-awful noise….

Stupid, cat loving moron! He's _mocking_ me!

"Incompetent idiot," I murmur, knowing full well that he hears.

The infuriating demon just grins. I glare. His stoicism from before has been a godsend compared to the Hell that he's giving me now. I almost wish he would revert back to the cold, aloof bastard he was a few hours ago, so that I wouldn't be in this mess.

"My apologies, my lord," he tells me, obviously enjoying the emotions that are most likely written across my face.

I ignore his petty words and settle my eyes back on the corpse, which has been lying on the ground without a care -or soul- in the world. It seems to be laughing at me now. The soul is gone. Glassy eyes are focused on me, glittering with the mirth of the dead. My one chance of some sort of fulfillment has vanished, no thanks to my butler. To make matters worse, my eyes sting with some foreign, wet substance. Tears.

I haven't cried since my parents….

Before the first tear falls, I turn on my heels and run. I cannot allow Sebastian to see me like this: like the spoiled child that I know I am. My pride won't allow it. And, even so, isn't a butler only as strong as his master? The thought of Sebastian being as weak as I is repulsive. Although Sebastian is…not himself…I certainly cannot allow myself to appear weak in front of my subordinate.

So, I force my legs to drive me out of the alleyway and through the winding streets and away from the hell of an idiot that is called Sebastian Michaelis. Before long, however, my legs and lungs burn as though they were still human; my eyes sting and blur with the tears that now stream freely down my face until I am fairly certain I look like a bloody mess. A part of me wishes for something to hold onto before I completely fall apart, but I quickly dismiss it. There is nothing -no one- but me. My home is gone, along with my irritating servants and annoying Elizabeth Middleford -my fiancé.

Truth be told, I almost miss her. I really must be a wreck.

I eventually come to a halt, taking big lungfuls of air. My body is trembling, my eyes hidden by my lengths of blue-black hair to hide the unwanted tears. A pair of black shoes soon appear in my vision, and I automatically stiffen. Don't tell me….

I almost sigh in relief when I look up and realize it's not Sebastian. Dealing with him (at the moment, at least) is an impossible feat.

Instead, the shoes belong to what appears to be a man in his early to mid thirties, with dark brown hair and gentle brown eyes. He nods his head politely in greeting. My mouth turns down in a frown, my posture automatically straightening until I configure the regal essence of a true earl.

"I am deeply sorry for frightening you."

He's speaking in French, his voice much like the music of a clarinet: Soft, deep, and completely untrustworthy. The man gives me an irritatingly comforting smile.

"You see," he continues in his mock-angelic voice, "I cannot bear to see a child cry. May I ask what is the matter?"

I hide my annoyance behind a stoic face.

"You may ask what you like. However, you may not get an answer to your question."

The man chuckles, and takes a deep breath. It's almost as if he's relishing the air that's entering his lungs, and it irritates me for some reason. The action is making me oddly uneasy, to put it simply. And I can't understand why, for the life of me.

"I see. You certainly are an interesting individual, aren't you? Well, what is your name?"

"Ciel. Earl Ciel Phantomhive"

"An earl, you say? Well, lord Phantomhive, my name is Frances. It's a pleasure making your acquaintance. Now, if you'll pardon my rudeness, may I suggest accompanying you? You seem…famished."

As if on cue, pain flares up in my abdomen. The void demands to be filled, and the pain that it is causing me nearly makes me double over. I bite my cheek until I taste my own blood, beads of sweat forming on my brow. My mouth waters; my eyes gleam with anticipation. Maybe I should….

No. I don't want to eat anything like the garbage Sebastian has brought me. I want nothing of the sort. And to dine on human food with a stranger is fair near repulsive.

"If you allow me to accompany you," Frances continues, "I'll take you somewhere for a bite to eat."

"I'm sorry, sir," I tell him, lifting up my chin and ignoring the pain. "I don't require any such assistance. I'll be fine by myself."

He takes a step forward, insistent, which instantly makes me suspicious. A gentle -for lack of a better word- smile graces his lips.

"Ah, but my lad, you never know what sorts of creatures lurk in the dark of night. A companion may be for the best."

Suspicious indeed. His words cause me to glance around at my surroundings, taking in everything as fast as I can: the empty buildings, the lamplights, a few rats skittering about, and the _eyes_. I can feel eyes on me; imaginary or otherwise, I'm not certain. But the sense makes my skin crawl.

My exposed eye settles back on Frances, and, for a moment, I swear I see his eyes flicker a demonic vermillion. I can understand everything now. He's a demon. No wonder I feel so edgy around this man. He moves to take another step towards me, and I glare.

"Don't come any closer," I order coldly.

"I know you're in pain, little one," Frances murmurs in what could be called a soothing voice if it weren't for a fact that it belongs to a demon. "It's unbearable isn't it? I can make it disappear, if you'd like. Would you like that?"

"What impudence," I hiss. "Who are you to talk to me so familiarly?"

Despite everything considered, though, I do want this pain to end; however, I doubt I would like the way this Frances -if that really is what he's called- would go about it. A bead of sweat trickles down and catches in my eye, stinging it. I blink, and the demon is in front of me; I can see the large distance in height between us, and the fact that he's looking down at me with that sickeningly saccharine smile makes me seethe. He lifts his hand as if to touch me.

"I would think twice about putting a finger on my master," the voice of Sebastian drifts from behind me.

I glance behind me with a (forcedly, I'll admit) bored expression and lock eyes with none other than Sebastian, who stood behind me only a few feet away, as if he has been there the entire time. Once again, there are two demons lusting after me. How fabulous.

"You must be Sebastian Michaelis," Frances presumes. "I've heard quite a lot about you and your now eternal master. Cheated out of the child's soul, were you? How pathetic. You should have devoured him while you had the chance."

"Rumors spread quickly in Hell, don't they?" Sebastian remarks thoughtfully, stepping up to me and placing his black-nailed hands on my shoulders. "Well then, we'd best be going. A word of warning, though, before we depart: it isn't wise to touch a devil's toy."

A growl erupts from my throat at the thought of being Sebastian's "toy". How dare the boor make a fool of me! But before I -or Frances, for that matter- could say a word, Sebastian scoops me up into his arms and races off.

….

The pain is fair near unbearable; I feel as though I'm being ripped apart. Death would be far less painful than this misery. I hold back the shameful, pain-filled tears that sting my eyes as Sebastian sets me down and instead glare at my surroundings.

We're back in Hell, in all its glory. Despite how it has been depicted, Hell is much like Earth. Only the fields are barren, the trees much more mangled, the sky crimson with a black sun. The heat is oppressive and uncomfortable.

"My lord, you shouldn't leave my side for a moment. There are demons everywhere, I'll have you know."

I scoff in annoyance. "What good will your petty warning do me? I'll always be with a demon one way or another." I turn my glare up to Sebastian and inwardly smirk at the displeasure in his eyes. It seems his cold exterior has melted a fraction. "Besides, it is your job to protect me, not to do whatever you please. The contract is still valid. You'd best learn to control yourself around your master, Sebastian. I'll be here for a very long time, after all. Now I order you to get me something to eat, and do hurry. Because of your incompetence, I'm nearly dying of hunger."

He bows, just as he used to when I was still human. I wouldn't reveal it, but that simple act nearly makes me smile. A mere memory of my humanity, but at least that is something to grasp on in the depths of my -literal and metaphorical- Hell. And then come the next three expected words:

"Yes, my lord."

….

"My lord, there is only one way for you to obtain nourishment now," my butler says as he kneels in front of my sitting form.

I don't like the look in his eyes; they're glittering with a devilish mischief. Whatever he is planning, I don't want any part of it. Yet I can't resist him, either. Or, more precisely, my stomach can't resist him.

"What is it?" I ask grudgingly, eyeing him warily as I struggle to maintain consciousness. It's becoming increasingly difficult to not black out at this point.

Before I know it, Sebastian is tilting my chin up force me to look into his eyes. A smirk forms on his face, and I glare weakly.

"I'm sure you know of it, Young Master. What I'm about to do is feed you, much like a baby bird."

My exposed eye widens, but I can make no sound. A soft pair of lips meet mine. Warmth floods through me as I feel something gliding down my throat. Soft, silky, malleable, unearthly, much like the lips connected to mine. A need foreign to me surges within my body, and I don't like it one bit. But I _need_ it.

Unsatisfied, I lean against him. He seems to know what I want, for another of those warm morsels slide down my throat and another wave of warmth, fulfillment, pure and utter _bliss_, fills me to the core. My small hands clench Sebastian's tailcoat as I pull him closer in an attempt to get to the last drops of essence in his mouth.

Sebastian's lips pull away, and I hear a small whimper flutter out of my lips. His mouth quirk up into another infuriating smirk, but I no longer care. The pain has subsided somewhat, and I can move functionally again. I'm no longer being torn from the inside out. That's all that matters now.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it, Master?" Sebastian whispers, leaning closer and breathing on my ear, sending shivers cascading down the length of my spine. His eyes meet mine, and for some reason, I feel the urge to look away. "It seems you've liked it, even."

I force myself to return to his gaze and glare. "I have not. That was the most disgusting meal I've ever tasted in my life."

"Pardon my rudeness, my lord, but it didn't seem that way when you were leaning into me and asking for more."

"I was not!" I retort (a blatant lie, of course. My human characteristics haven't left me yet), bringing my hand up to slap him. "Fool!"

What surprises me is the fact that as my hand cascades down towards his smirking face, he doesn't move to dodge or to stop it. He simply allows it to continue its course. What surprises me further is that it stops on its own accord a few centimeters from his skin. My cheeks suddenly flush, and I clench my hands into fists. I glare at Sebastian for a few seconds, then stand and start walking away, knowing full well that Sebastian will follow me wherever I go. And, with that knowledge, I allow myself a smile unseen by my demon butler.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Once again, I am loathe to admit it, I have been burdened by the demon known as writer's block. It has taken MUCH MUCH MUCH longer than 2 weeks to post this and I apologize. Now, I know that I must never promise anything when writing, because I will most likely not keep my word *sweat drop*. I do hope you all will forgive me. Hopefully this chapter is up to your standards. Please review, or no Sebastian cookies for you! And no. I did not bake Sebastian.**

* * *

**Penumbra **

**-Sebastian-**

Chapter 4:

"Do wipe that glum look off your face, Sebastian. It's revolting."

My young master's voice snaps me back to reality, out of my train of thought. He's staring at me, an irritated expression on his features, as he sits in the dining room of my very own manor, his legs crossed and his head held high in its usual cocky manner. And I find the fact that the demon-ling is inside of my personal home somewhat disagreeable.

But more importantly, my young lord should show a bit more gratitude. His lack of such, to put it frankly, gets on my nerves.

"Of course, my lord," I mutter as my features fall as flat as a marble wall.

However, even though I find that the demon-ling is in my home disagreeable, it is not the reason for the expression that I had accidentally left on my features (humans tend to do this often, and much to my chagrin, I seem to have acquired some of their characteristics). I have been pondering, actually...

"What are you thinking about? You've become much too quiet as of late," I hear my master murmur, playing with the small slice of pie in front of him with his fork. He looks up into my eyes with his uncovered cobalt orb. "You're not plotting on how to get rid of me, are you?"

"Of course not, my lord." I almost smirk at the trace of insecurity hiding behind the cold stone wall of his tone. _More like how to deal with you..._

He lets out a sigh, almost as if he doesn't believe me. I allow a hurt expression to filter onto my face.

"My lord, do you not believe me? I've told you time and again that I don't lie."

His eyes suddenly turn crimson as a flash of pain and anger race through his features. The young earl jumps out of his chair and slams a small fist on the table in a highly uncharacteristic manner, causing the plate of pie and the fork to fall to the floor, clattering in protest.

"I know!" he yells. "I've always known, but you never tell me the truth, either!"

I raise an eyebrow, fighting not to show the amusement that bubbled beneath the surface. _How amusing..._

Another flash of pain flares through the clear glass of his crimson, devil-slitted eyes. He winces and grabs his stomach, his breathing becoming increasingly labored. I allow a look of worry to settle onto my face.

"My lord, are you alright?"

"Are you daft?! Does it look like I'm alright?" he screeches as he turns away from me. "Don't follow me, Sebastian! That is an order!"

My young lord then walks out of the dining room, towards the bedrooms, with what little dignity he could muster in his pain.

I watch as the door shuts behind him, the expression of worry being replaced with a dark pleasure that was threatening to crash over me at any moment. I take a deep inhale, relishing the drug-like scent of the Phantomhive's caged soul surrounded by the sharp scent of white hot agony, touched with the mouthwatering scent of fear and confusion as they drift through my senses and into my bloodstream, making my mind fog and my stomach constrict and...

And I laugh.

**-x-**

Despite my young master's orders, I trace his footsteps through the hallway outside of the dining room. I wince slightly as I hear a muffled, pain-filled shriek slice through the air like a dull butter knife, followed by the crashing of unidentified objects and the shattering of glass. Ah, my young lord is trying so hard for his pain to not be heard, trying, instead, to make it seem more like a bout of anger.

I stop at the door that the former earl had gone through and open it, quickly dodging a painting that was quickly cascading towards my face. It shatters on the wall behind me, and I make a small 'tsk tsk' noise, rapidly infuriating the earl.

"Dammit, Sebastian! I told you not to follow me!" the boy hissed, collapsing onto the floor holding his stomach.

I walk over to him silently, hardly breathing (lest my body betray me again) as my eyes glance through the mess he has made: long scratches mar the walls of the bedroom, raking over the floor and ruining the sheets and mattress on the bed. Decorative vases lie shattered on the floor, a few paintings lie despondently in the corner of the room. I let out a sigh before I turn my full gaze onto the demon-ling. I inhale in surprise.

A black tail flickers and twitches in pain, black, kitten-like ears are pinned back instead of the young lord's human ones. Blue eyes flicker blood-red and back again until the whole room seem to be filled with its pain-filled, dual colored luster. My eyes soften and my lips form a smile of their own accord. My heart seems to melt into a sinful black puddle. I must admit...this is adorable.

But I don't think my young master thinks the same.

"Quit looking so damn happy!" my lord hisses, which makes me chuckle.

Another hiss as my young lord raises his hand, his nails sharp and cutely threatening, and attempts to scratch me. I can no longer hold myself back as I grab his wrist and pull him to me so that he's sitting on my lap, his back to my chest. My mind just registers that I'm in dangerous territory, but I quickly dismiss it. Hell itself is a dangerous territory, and I have lived in it all of my demonic life.

My lord struggles, his body writhing as pain-filled mewls fill the room. He tries to claw at me, but fails as I wrap my arms around him tightly.

"My lord, please calm down," I whisper softly, soothingly. "Look at all my belongings you've broken. You're being quite the rude guest."

"Shut up!" he hisses, pain etched into his voice. "You bastard! Unhand me right now!"

I allow one arm to release him, making sure I hold him securely with the other, and run my fingers through his blue-black hair and onto his cat ears, his silken fur smooth to the touch, and oh-so-_soft. _My eyes widen as a small smile forms on my face.

"So...soft," I whisper adoringly, which angers my master all the more to my amusement.

"Bloody hell, get off of me, Sebastian!" he screeches, writhing as he tries to escape. "Quit fawning over-"

He cuts himself off as a mewl of pain fills the room, and his body constricts, trying to form a ball. Small, rose petal lips part as my master leans back against me and gasps for breath. I allow myself a small chuckle.

"It seems the kitten is hungry?"

I know very well that being hungry is not the only reason for the boy's pain, but I find no need to mention it to him. After all, this is just a game. No need to end it so soon.

"You daft, disgusting..." but my lord doesn't deny it.

My eyes glow vermillion as I spin him around and nearly slam him to the floor. I straddle him, his overwhelmingly sweet, _heavenly_ scent filling my lungs, and I have to restrain my urge to _take_ him. The surprise, fear, and agony set in his eyes sends excitement coursing through my veins like lightning. I want him, I want him, I _want!_ And I shall have.

I gnash my teeth, trying desperately to control myself. For some reason that I can no longer understand, I cannot-_will_ not- betray my master. Even though Fate herself has turned her hand against me, even though my master, who was once Earl Ciel Phantomhive, has become something else entirely...

I must retain my aesthetics. Yes. That must be the reason of this constriction of my chest. I cannot betray my master because of my own philosophy. I am my own reason for suffering. My eyes narrow dangerously, flickering garnet and back to the demonic vermillion, over and over in indecision. But my anger is no longer directed at my lord. It is directed at myself. How ludicrous. I should have killed the boy a long time ago. I should have at least-

"S-Sebastian," my young lord groaned, turning my focus back on him instead of my own inner turmoil.

What I see in his eyes sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Agony, desperation, anger, and utter weakness- but there is also a dash of hope hidden deep inside as he looks into my orbs. I can see him try to piece together what is left of his broken shield of authority as he mutters his next words, the eye with the covenant flashing:

"This is an order: make this pain stop!"

My eyes flash back to vermillion in anticipation and utter the next three words that have been spoken for three years:

"Yes, my lord."

I lean in closer, summoning up an already devoured soul from the pit of my core, and closed the distance between us. To my uttermost delight, my lord immediately melted and parted his lips eagerly. I allowed a small smirk to form on my face as the soul slithered down his throat.

It seems the young lord has come to accept this form of feeding awfully quickly.

Once my master has devoured the last morsel, his eyes close wearily. It is almost comical how soon he fell asleep, yet I am not, by all means, surprised. The pain of changing can take its toll on any demon, but most likely even more so in the case of my master, who is but a mere child. A mere child. Staring at his sleeping form, I am almost...intrigued.

_ A cat demon, how fortunate for me_. I let out a soft chuckle. _At least it's not a dog. That would be most unpleasant._

My hand, of its own accord, slides to my master's still cat-like ears and rubs it absentmindedly as I stare at my master's face. His face scrunches up in pain as a cold sweat breaks on the delicate skin of his forehead. His tail twitches as he moans quietly. Effects of his changing. I suppose once he awakens, I would have to explain it all to him.

My eyes soften for just a moment before they harden again as I smirk, albeit a bit disgustedly, because of the drugged up heart thumping wildly, persistently, in my rotten chest. Here this boy is, a mere porcelain doll, falling asleep with a devil. How utterly foolish of my young master. Once again he is dancing with death. However, perhaps he wouldn't be much safer if he had fallen asleep in another room.

_Because I can always get to him._

And then I wonder if I am actually the foolish one.

I let out a sigh and rise from my position on top of him, the devilish, most basic part of my mind reprimanding me. _A helpless, sleeping child makes for good prey_, it sings, then bursts into a cackling fit, loud enough that I can very near hear it in my ears. I close my eyes and ignore it. Certainly, it was the scent of the boy's soul that is causing this hallucination...

Slowly, albeit forcibly, I saunter towards the window, leaving my master on the ground. My young lord will not be pleased, if he were conscious at the moment, but I found myself to not care. Instead, I look out the window, my eyes flashing vermillion in warning as they meet another pair of demonic orbs.

A smirk forms on my lips, widening until it reveals my sharp canines and it very near resembles a sneer.

I'm fairly certain this devil will keep his doll.


End file.
